


A Noble Deed

by EmeraldTulip



Category: IT (2017), IT (2019), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Canon Compliant, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, I know your secret your dirty little secret, M/M, Minor Injuries, One Shot, Pining, Richie has loved Eddie since they were kids, Stolen Moments, and it shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 06:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20223247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldTulip/pseuds/EmeraldTulip
Summary: Richie sets the bottle down next to him once he douses the first cotton ball, then reaches forward to inspect the wound.His fingers seem to stutter as they cut through the air, abruptly. His palm makes contact with Eddie’s unblemished cheek, rough but still undeniably warm, and suddenly Richie is thirteen again and—“I know your secret,” the clown taunts. “Your dirty little secret!”





	A Noble Deed

**Author's Note:**

> hfdsgfhj reddie  
okay but in all seriousness, these trailers and leaks have me DEAD. I saw a shot in one of them where eddie has an injury on his face so I was like. okay andy and stephen king I hear you but what if richie fixes him up  
enjoy!

“Rich—“

“No,” Richie cuts Eddie off, tugging him by his wrist up the stairs.

“Richie, I’m not twelve!”

“Don’t care.”

And he doesn’t. He can feel Bev’s eyes following them from below, but the others are all already involved in an intense debate in the kitchen. They can manage without them for a little while.

Once they’re in the bathroom, Eddie finally shakes Richie off and scowls at him. “I can do it myself, you know.”

Richie shrugs, already opening the cabinet. “Yeah, but then I can’t shame you to your face. Sit down.”

Eddie reluctantly does so, slumping back onto the toilet seat cover. “Rich, I—“

“Eddie,” Richie interrupts him again, still rummaging through the cabinet, “I almost watched a clown who looked like that bitch from high school take off your head. Whatever you have to say, to tell me that it _wasn’t that bad_ or _I wasn’t that stupid_—don’t.”

“I wasn’t gonna say that,” Eddie grumbles, but Richie doesn’t believe him for a second. Eddie seems to sense his non-uttered grunt and his frown deepens. “I wasn’t!”

Richie does actually snort this time as he pulls down a bottle of antiseptic and sets it on the counter. “Sure, Eds.”

“Don’t—“ Eddie cuts himself off this time with a sigh. “Well, I was. But I was also gonna say that… we’re okay. Okay?” He hesitates. “I was stupid, yeah, but it… I couldn’t just stand there.”

“Okay, Eds,” Richie deadpans again, not wanting to hash it out in a bathroom while Eddie’s face is bleeding. “Just let me help, alright?”

Eddie gives a huff of agreement—at least, Richie assumes that’s what it means, seeing as he tilts his face towards him.

Richie picks up the bottle, cotton swabs ready in his other hand, and sits on the side of the bathtub. “This—“

“—might sting,” Eddie finishes cheekily, though not without a grimace. “Yeah, I know.”

Richie sets the bottle down next to him once he douses the first cotton ball, then reaches forward to inspect the wound.

His fingers seem to stutter as they cut through the air, abruptly. His palm makes contact with Eddie’s unblemished cheek, rough but still undeniably warm, and suddenly Richie is thirteen again and—

_“I know your secret,” the clown taunts. “Your dirty little secret!”_

_And Richie’s heart is in his throat because he knows, he _knows_ what this thing is talking about, it _must_ be._

_“Should we tell them all?” the clown suggests with an innocent smile, and Richie finally regains feeling in his legs enough to stumble back, back, back._

_Because _fuck_, this isn’t happening, this can’t be happening. This creature can’t possibly know. He’s just being punked. The clown doesn’t know._

_But then the clown holds something up, and when Richie peers closer—_

_“Fuck,” he says. Because that’s his pocket knife—the pocket knife he had thrown into the water just a week ago, sweaty and frustrated and mildly splintered. That’s the pocket knife he used to carve the R next to the plus next to the_

“Richie,” Eddie says, a sweet note of concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

And Richie has to hold back a laugh because he came up here to help Eddie, not the other way around. “‘m fine,” he mutters, flexing his fingers just slightly on Eddie’s face. “Careful, now.”

“Tell yourself that,” Eddie jabs back, hissing just a moment later as the swab finally meets broken skin. “_Bitch_.”

“Jeez, Spaghetti,” Richie exclaims in jest, trying to get him to lighten up. Just a little. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

When they were kids, Eddie would have laughed at that. He would have hit Richie first, but then he would giggle. This Eddie, however…

“Something like that,” he sighs, the sweet in his eyes turning sour, and if Richie didn’t know any better he’d say that Eddie was leaning into his touch. “Richie,” he says abruptly.

Richie hums in acknowledgment, not daring to meet his eyes as he douses another cotton ball.

“I couldn’t just stand there.” Eddie rubs a hand over the clean side of his face. “It came at you—and Ben,” he adds hastily. “I couldn’t let you get hurt.”

Richie tosses the two bloodied cotton balls into the trash can, unwrapping some gauze. “How noble.”

“Rich.”

Eddie’s voice is firm, and Richie finally can’t help it. He glances up to meet his eyes as he presses the gauze to Eddie’s cheek. “Yeah.”

“I’d do it again,” he says, and _god_ he says it so firmly that Richie almost cries from the force of it.

His hands tremble as he secures the medical tape to Eddie’s skin. He can’t seem to stop jittering. “I know,” he finally says, and then he’s dragging Eddie into a hug.

It’s closer than he’s let himself be for… a while. Because usually, by the time Richie can feel the warmth of Eddie’s skin beside him, that voice is back in his ear whispering _secrets secrets I know your secret _and he withdraws. This time, though… this time, Eddie is the loudest voice in his head and he no longer feels like a foolish, love-struck, scared teen. More like a foolish, love-struck, _just nervous_ adult.

“I know,” he says again. “But please, Eddie. Don’t.” He pulls back from the hug just slightly to rest his forehead against Eddie’s and _fuck_ he’s never been so grateful that they’re both _alive_. “Don’t.”

Eddie seems to shake as his arms wrap around Richie’s back, but hey, he can’t blame him. “I’ll try,” he whispers. “For you, I’ll try.”

Richie tunes out Bill’s angry shout from downstairs, the creaking of the floorboards, the steady drip from the broken sink faucet as he buries his face into Eddie’s hair. 

It’s curlier than he remembers. Just as dark, though. Still thick.

Most importantly, his body is warm. Living. Breathing.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into his ear, feeling the thrum of Eddie’s pulse as blood flows through his body, delivering oxygen to his lungs. “Please.”

It’s the closest to _I love you_ he’ll get.

**Author's Note:**

> we are all clowns here! hope you enjoyed.  
comments and kudos are, as always, appreciated.  
find me on tumblr, my main is [@perseusjaxon](https://perseusjaxon.tumblr.com) and my writing blog is [@lowriting](https://lowriting.tumblr.com)!


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